Needless to say, with the one thing and another, there was a substantial backlog in the Travelogue when I surfaced around 6:30.
With the prospect of a late night, the day it was always going to be about pacing oneself and ensuring that we got to the end of the concert and all the way home without nodding off.
Since the laptop had finally completed its downloads and updates I was able to turn my attention to Travlogue matters and had knocked over a fair chunk of backlog before breakfast.
Not a substantial breakfast, however, since I had big plans for lunch.
Those plans definitely looked good after I had made my first booking on the iPhone Dimmi app.
The definitely upmarket Lalla Rookh eatery rates are very highly almost everywhere and I was booked in for 12:30.
So a light breakfast was definitely the way to go.
The cafe beside the foyer in Reception provided a bacon and egg muffin and a long black, which was all that was needed.
After that, there were places to go and things to check out.
For a start I needed to scope out the track to and from the Perth Arena, which runs past the made railway station, another substantial transport hub, and various squares and plazas.
Last time we had been in the vicinity there was significant construction work that stopped us from using the most direct line between two points, and in case something similar applied here I needed to check out the light of the land.
Once I’d hit Wellington Street at the intersection about thirty metres from the Adina’s front door, the right hand or station side looked to be the way to go since the arena was on that side of the street and I figured there would be a clear path from the station and the Perth Busport to the venue.
Unfortunately, that side of the footpath reached a dead end immediately after the egress from the passport, thanks to construction work.
Back on the city side of Wellington Street, the footpath ran relatively uninterrupted (except for the odd cross street) for the rest of the way and I heard my preferred pathway back and forth in the evening.
Once I was in the vicinity, I figured I might as well scope out the entrance and pick up the old illustratory photograph for this little enterprise and then, with the couple of snaps on the camera roll, turned my attention to the city's music shops.
I been to 78 Records on our previous visit and figured that an hour’s perusal of what was on offer in the racks would deliver a significant hit to the credit card.
That's not, however, the way it worked out. There was nothing that's caught the eye, and not a great deal of depth to investigate in the racks.
It seemed like further evidence to support the motion that the day of the specialist CD shop is almost gone. And since five to seven minutes is well short of an hour, I figured I may as well investigate Dada Records today rather than to hold off until Friday.
It was only a block or two away, I had plenty of time up my sleeve, and if Dada proved to be a dud I could devote Friday to browsing in bookstores or maybe that visit to Fremantle I had previously pencilled in for Australia Day.
And on the way to Dada, I had the mildly surreal experience of being stopped by two young dudes who wanted to know whether they were in the heart of downtown Perth.
I have no idea what they stopped me been outside McDonald's front door. Maybe it was because I looked like I knew where I was going, which was true enough because I knew I had to turn left at the next intersection.
My destination from there was uncertain, but at least I knew where I had to turn. Maps wasn't totally clear about which side of Pier Street was home to Dada, and I went up one side of the streets and out the other before I located at the front door.
An initial squiz around on the premises suggested an establishment entirely devoted to vinyl, but fortunately I asked the gentleman behind the counter and he pointed me towards the basement.
Down there, I found exactly what I had been hoping to find at my previous stop. The CD bins were well stocked, the range of genres and styles was extensive and a return visit on Friday will certainly inflict heavy damage on the credit card balance.
Even better, a casual conversation with the bloke behind the counter effectively put the kibosh on any notions of rocking on down to Fremantle tomorrow.
Talking to somebody who lives in Freo and expresses the opinion that he will probably not be venturing outside the house on the Australia Day suggested a precinct likely to be over run by flag wearing bogans.
And the crowds at the Fishermans wharf would it probably militate against a casual feed of fish and chips and the odd glass of quality white wine.
The likely temperature and the public holiday factor had almost ruled out the day trip to Freo, but it was nice to have suspicions confirmed by someone with obvious local knowledge.
It was getting on for 10:45 by the stage and with a 12:30 booking for lunch I figured I needed to head back to the hotel, take it easy for a spell and prepare for the assault on Lalla Rookh.
After lunch, I figured that there would be a nanna nap before I rocked on down to the Arena for the show.
With a concert day game plan that involves a substantial lunch followed by a relatively easy afternoon, I figured I may as well start at the top.
That could have been Long Chim, but I'd been there and done that.
From what I could see, Lalla Rookh, with what looked like a classy line in Italian cucina, was the next on the bucket list and it certainly did not disappoint.
Once I had found it, that is.
Having donned the dining out clobber, I set off down Barrack Street around 12:10, probably a tad early, but I thought an early arrival could be filled in looking at bottles of wine and wishing I had the wherewithal to afford them.
Lalla Rookh looked to be the kind of operation: high quality at premium prices.
A glance at with their premium wines by the glass list will reveal 60ml half glasses priced between $13 and $30, with 120ml glasses starting at $26 and running up to $60.
I had the impression that they also do retail, selling bottles to takeaway and I figured that if I was too early for the booking I could always browse in that department.
Not that I was expecting it to be buying, you understand.
But it didn't work out that way. I walked along the river side of St Georges Terrace looking for some obvious sign of the high class food and wine operation and ended up around one hundred metres past the target.
That wasn't a particularly surprising since I've managed to pass almost everything I've aimed for earlier in the morning, with the notable exception all the Perth Arena which was, like Retravision, too big to ignore.
So I doubled back and ended up some twenty metres past where Maps was telling me I needed to be.
The obvious conclusion was that the target was located inside one of the buildings rather than writing the street outside. It was easy enough to find the right street number, so I headed inside.
The directory in the foyer indicated that Lalla Rookh was situated in the arcade, rather than the building itself, so after a thorough reconnaissance off the ground floor I headed back outside.
And there, in the middle of a construction site, I found a sign indicating beer and wine downstairs this way. I made my way down a staircase and arrived at the desired destination with about three or four minutes to spare.
Once I'd been ushered into my table for one, a cursory glance at the menu was all that was needed.
Three courses, I figured.
Start with a beef carpaccio, follow it with a pasta dish and see how we were going.
If there was room for it, I figured I could go for a main dish and the veal cotaletta was probably the way to go in that department.
But I had no idea all of servings, so it was wait and see.
The ordering side of things brought an interesting development.
The food order was straightforward, but when I turned my attention to recommendations for an appropriate wine to accompany the first two dishes I learned that the waitress was still on training wheels.
In fact, it was the first shift, but, fortunately she had a mentor.
I would like to think but I helped the training process.
When I asked for a wine to match the carpaccio I was surprised to be pointed towards a white, rather then a red, but the $12.50 Pierpaolo Pecorari Pinot Grigio worked immaculately with the dressing on the sliced raw beef.
It was probably a better combination than the carpaccio and Pinot Noir I enjoyed in Hobart about two and a half months before.
I headed up market into Barolo for something to accompany the potato gnocchi (Marini ‘la Serra’ 2011), and the combination worked almost as well.
Maybe I should have asked for advice on that one too.
And after what amounted to two entrees there was a definite room for the veal coteletta. Since the order went in a little late I heard an excuse for a glass of Valpolicella Pieropan ‘Ruberpan’ Superiore 2013) while I waited for the main course.
When it arrived, a Prunotto ‘Bric Turot’ 2003 Barbaresco appeared alongside it in another almost divine food and wine match.
And, in between meals and drinks I could enjoy watching the apprentice wait person and her mental doing their respected things.
When the bill arrived I suppose I could have just left the cash, but waited so I could thank the two ladies for the floorshow.
Once I had, I made my way up the semi rickety staircase and headed back to base for a quiet afternoon resting up in air conditioned comfort for the first of my concerts.
It was definitely the right way to go, but 5:15 was a tad early to be pointing oneself towards the venue.
When I hit the pavement, even though it was latish in the afternoon, the open oven door heat was like walking into a wall, and even though I was walking down the shaded side of Wellington Street it was still, not to put to fine a point on it, Bloody hot.
And, when I arrived at the venue, I discovered that the doors would not open until six. They won't catch me that way a second time.
I mosied over to the merchandise caravan, picked up an event specific T-shirt and headed back to queue for admission do the arena.
Once inside, the usual preconcert routine applied: overpriced beer, something minimal to eat, and I move into the seat around 20 minutes before the scheduled start time.
As far as the concert in itself is concerned there is a separate entry in Hughesy’s music blog, so there is little point in the repeating detail hereabouts.
But, interestingly, my initial reaction was that it was possibly the best of the eight Springsteen shows I've experienced to date. I suspect I'll be saying the same thing after Friday night.
After the concert, the walk back down the Wellington Street was, largely a matter of following the crowd which thinned gradually as pedestrians peeled off to the right towards the various water holes and late-night eateries in that part of the CBD.
But not for this little black duck.
I headed straight for the Adina, tucked myself in upstairs and unwell with the help of a perfectly acceptable Chapel Hill McLaren Vale Sangiovese that was nowhere near the same postcode as what I'd tried earlier in the day but, of course, it was all I had on hand.
It did the job quite adequately, and I was pushing up Zs just after midnight at the end of a memorable day.
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